Raein
by fairytale ideals
Summary: Kurt had been surprised to find that it wasn't a recording accidentally left on, and even more surprised that the person playing the piano was none other than Blaine Anderson.


**Fair warning, this was originally written for another fandom, so it might be a bit awkwardly translated over. Also, I'm pretty sure I caught all 'her's and 'she's, but if not, please let me know!**

**Additionally, I know that this is a bit ridiculous, for a few reasons. There is no set location for this, and I think it's probably unrealistic that they learned it that quick, but hopefully you'll forgive me. I know _nothing_ about music, so being completely honest that may be butchered, too. Also, I have a thing for violin-players. Forgive me.**

**...that probably put you off. So I'm done now.**

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><p>His fingers danced across the keys in a carefully choreographed dance. The corners of his lips were curled up in a tiny smile as he let out a content sigh.<p>

He wasn't quite sure when it had happened, but he knew that the piano hadn't always been his extra form of escapism. He hadn't always snuck away from everyone else under the ruse that he had to study or meet with a teacher. But now it was. In the chaos of his life, he had started to sneak onto the stage when no one else was around and just _play_.

Blaine was no stranger to this stage. Everyone saw him on it regularly, dancing and singing with all the pizzazz that everyone had come to expect of him. But this was different: there was no fanfare, no applause, no eyes on him, and, of course, no pressure to put on a show. Of course, his usual performances were great and he enjoyed them just as much as the audience did, but he loved the elegant beauty and simplicity of his one-on-ones with the piano.

Kurt leaned against the most convenient theater backdrop, silently watching him play. Just as it had for Blaine, this had become a part of his day, as well. One day he had left his bag backstage and when he went to retrieve it, he heard a soft and sweet melody floating through the air. He had been surprised to find that it wasn't a recording accidentally left on, and even more surprised that the person playing was none other than Blaine Anderson.

He wasn't sure now how long it had been going on. All he could remember was the music he played and the way it made him so obviously happy. This was the boy he loved; this was who he was when no one else was around.

Every day it was the same. At approximately two-thirty in the afternoon, he would find a place to stand. Shortly after, he would walk in, too. He always came in through stage left, so he never saw Kurt.

He had been careful to make sure that he never saw him. Blaine may have trusted him more than he trusted most of his friends, but there was a line. He might fall asleep watching movies with Kurt or he might let him taste his cooking (granted, he always protested, saying that Kurt was such a good cook and he couldn't compare), but this was different. There was something so very intimate about it that he felt like he shouldn't watch.

But he always did anyways.

Kurt's eyes fell closed as he listened, but then there was a stutter in the music, and it stopped.

"If I had more hands," he heard him say softly, quickly running his fingers across all the keys then back again, the notes ringing out high to low then low to high.

This was normal, too. He would always stop at least once. Kurt had no idea why, but Blaine would get incredibly flustered. Occasionally he would stand up, pace around the piano a few times, then sit back down and keep playing. Kurt had put a lot of thought into why he might get so flustered; he hadn't missed any notes and he didn't seem like the kind of boy to get so bothered by something like forgetting the notes. He'd probably just make up his own.

And as was usual, he tapped on a few of the keys then kept playing. Kurt's eyes floated closed again, imagining a day when he might actually gather up the courage to let him know he was there.

Apparently, though, he wouldn't need to worry about letting him know he was there for much longer. There was a tickle in his nose indicative of a coming sneeze. Panicked, he turned his gaze to the ceiling and started fanning his face with his hand (Brittany did something similar and swore by it).

But this was to no avail. He sneezed loudly and the music stopped. He looked over at Blaine to see him looking back at him, his hands frozen right on the keys he'd just been procuring a soft melody from.

"Kurt?"

"Oh, um, I'm sorry, I was just, um-"

"Listening to me play piano?" he asked, followed by a soft chuckle. Kurt wasn't sure whether or not there was humor in it. "I _thought_I was being watched. But then, sometimes I think I'm just paranoid."

They just looked at each other for a moment, and neither of them saying anything about _why_he was paranoid. "Yeah," he sighed. "It's just that, when you play... I just..." His hands started gesturing indistinctly, as if this was supposed to have any meaning to him.

"Thanks?" he said. He blinked a few times, clearly not sure if he was saying it was good or not.

"It was beautiful, Blaine, and I think that should go without saying, and-" He could feel his face flushing.

He smiled. "It's Ólafur Arnalds' Raein. Well, mostly, anyway."

"Mostly?" Kurt echoed.

"There's a- wait, you play violin, right? Could you go get your violin? I'll go grab the sheet music and we'll meet back here and oh, man, I hope you can play this." By the end of his statement, his eyes were lit up excitedly and his words were coming at a mile a minute.

"What?" he asked, his brows knitting together.

"All will be forgiven—and no questions will be asked—if you can help me. This song, see, it has a string along with the piano, but obviously I can't do both. It doesn't sound half as good without both. But you play violin and, you know, maybe you could play it with me?" At some point during this speech, his hands had grasped Kurt's, and his green-brown eyes were looking so hopefully into Kurt's glasz eyes, and how could he say no?

"Sure," he said. A grin broke out on Blaine's face then, and Kurt should not have been surprised. Blaine was the poster child for all things adorable and very excitable.

"You are the greatest, Kurt, and I really do mean that." He pulled Kurt in for a quick hug. Pulling back, he squeezed Kurt's shoulder. "Back in... fifteen? Better yet, make it a race." And like that, he was gone.

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><p>About fifteen minutes later, Kurt walked back onto the stage to find that Blaine had definitely beaten him. He was seated at the piano already, playing a slightly sped-up piano version of Teenage Dream.<p>

"Katy Perry? Again? Really, Blaine?" he commented, setting his case on top of the piano and opening it.

For a moment Blaine was distracted, watching him pull out his violin. Then he looked back at him sharply, as if he'd only just heard him speak. "Oh, well," he said, "it's just that I needed something with energy, because do you realize how excited I am?"

He smiled. "No, tell me," he said sarcastically. Blaine was obviously extremely excited. He was honestly reminding him of a puppy.

Blaine took the question seriously, though, and after a moment of consideration, he answered, "I am so excited that Wes could walk in here, on fire, screaming and shouting, and I _would not notice_." He grinned. "I have not been this excited since I—no, I have not been this excited since the first time I was included on one of the Warbler pranks. They are awesome, and I might have literally urinated myself."

"Are you serious?" he asked, his brows knitting.

The dark-haired boy chuckled. "No, of course not," he said, handing him the sheet music for his part of Raein. He scooted over on the bench and patted the spot next to him. Kurt sat down and immediately Blaine leaned against him, their eyes both scanning over the notes on the page. To others it might have just been a mess of notes and curved lines. To Kurt, it was a new opportunity (and also an excuse to spend time with Blaine). To Blaine, it was like a recurring dream that he had been wishing so hard to come true was finally happening to him.

Neither of them was sure how long they spent on the abandoned stage, orienting Kurt in his part. Their phones buzzed and beeped, alerting them that the real world was still there and their friends were wondering where they were.

Eventually, though (and it turned out to be far past curfew, but that was not high on Blaine's list of concerns, and his enthusiasm was contagious), they got it. They played through his favorite Ólafur Arnalds piece and it sounded better than he'd ever dreamed it would be. Whereas when he had played it on the piano alone it had felt terribly flat, Kurt's violin added the emotion and pure feeling he knew was hiding in the music.

It wasn't perfect. No, it would take far more than one potential all-nighter (there weren't windows but there were certainly both tired enough) to make it perfect. There were missed notes and off-key parts and occasionally they would fall out of time with each other, but to Blaine, it _was_perfect.

"Are you crying?" Kurt asked softly as they played the final notes on their most successful run-through yet.

"No," Blaine said, but it was clear it was a lie when he rubbed at his eyes. He chuckled, "But trust me, it's a good cry. I just… I _love_ this song, Kurt, and it means a lot to me that—" He stopped short as their eyes met.

It was in that moment that Kurt decided he was done with them just sitting around sharing coffee, singing flirty duets, and pretending to not notice when their friends started making bets about when they would get together.

Before he could second guess himself again, before he could think about the consequences, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Blaine's. For a terrifying second, Blaine was unresponsive, but then he was throwing his hands up to touch Kurt _just like Kurt had been dying for him to do for the longest time_, one hand gently caressing the soft skin on his face.

Kurt decided he would disregard his other 'first' kisses. No fake or stolen kiss counted in his mind because this was Blaine and this was perfect and this was just how he'd imagined it. Blaine's lips were gently rough—something he wasn't even aware was _possible_ until now, but if anyone could pull it off, it was Blaine.

After they separated, Kurt smiled.

"I think I like that song, too."


End file.
